


Some Days

by bondboy68



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Recovery, baths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:10:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bondboy68/pseuds/bondboy68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days Bucky wakes up and doesn't remember where he is. Steve always knows where to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Days

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted the mental image of Bucky in a bathtub and then fluff happened I guess.

Bucky was doing a lot better since he moved in with Steve and started to regain more and more memories, but there were still incidents. They were starting to have a good list of his triggers and worked to avoid them as much as possible. Sam and Natasha were as nearly good as Steve was with bringing Bucky out of a flashback. And he still woke up forgetting where he was, on occasion, but at least he was predictable about it. Steve knew were to go on those mornings where he woke up to the sound of panic and found Bucky’s room empty, and the front door or one of the windows wide open. He just pulled on a pair of sweats and his running shoes and headed to one of the few spots Bucky always ended up at. 

First the nearest bus stop, because sometimes he was trying to get back to New York. This was generally the easiest. He didn’t usually know why he wanted to get to New York, he was just confused. Once found, he would peacefully let Steve take him back into the apartment and sit quietly with a cup of coffee while it all came back to him. 

Other times Steve would catch up with him halfway to a decommissioned HYDRA hideout. This was a bit more difficult. Luckily, he was never armed. Steve had tried every manner of breaking him out of it before it led to a fight. No matter what he did or said, Bucky would attack, screaming angry Russian. It didn’t help he was normally just wearing underwear when this happened. At least it wasn’t a common occurrence. Steve would either get him calmed down enough to take him home, or somebody would show up to help. Steve didn’t like knocking Bucky out or using sedatives, but understood it was better than either of them getting hurt. 

This time, unfortunately, it was the latter. Steve called after him, grabbed his arm, was rewarded for it with a punch in the face. 

It was raining, and six AM on top of that, so the street was empty. Steve ducked and swerved, his clothes already soaked as he tried to just get a good enough grip on Bucky to restrain him. 

“Bucky, it’s me! Just relax. Remember.” 

He got a grip on his arm and twisted it, pinning it behind his back and wrapping his free arm around the man, holding him tight. Bucky fought, trying to twist out of his grip, but his fighting became weaker until he was limp in Steve’s arms. 

“Buck? Bucky?” Steve turned him around, saw the lost and defeated look in Bucky’s eyes that broke his heart every time. “Come on… let’s go home.” He wrapped his arm around his shoulders and led him to the car that had just pulled up. Natasha always knew, somehow. She drove them back silently, just giving Steve a look before he got out that said everything all at once. ‘It’s not your fault if you can’t handle it.’ She’d said as much on many occasions. Every time, Steve just smiled and assured he could handle it. It was all worth it to have his best friend. 

Steve took him up stairs. Bucky was soaked and shivering, so they went straight into the bathroom. 

“What are you doing?” 

Steve looked up from where he knelt by the tub. “Drawing you a bath.” 

“I don’t remember the last time I had a bath, Rogers.” 

Steve smiled. “Well then you’re overdue. Come on, it’ll warm you up and relax you.” After a memory lapse, Steve noticed how docile and compliant Bucky would become. There was always the flash of anger, brought on by fear more than anything, but then he always went quiet and still. He would follow any instruction asked. It scared Steve, wondering what the wrong person could do to him in these moments. What had been done in the past during these moments. He took special care to take care of Bucky in these moments. Make sure he knew he was safe. 

When the bath was filled he got the other man into it and then sat at the edge of the tub. Bucky let him wash his hair and body, including his prosthetic arm, and rub some of the kinks out of his back. At one point, Bucky reached up and took hold of his arm. 

“Thank you.” 

Steve just smiled, because thanks wasn’t necessary. Where Bucky was concerned, nothing was owed. They’d saved each other’s lives more than once, had proven loyalty to each other above anybody else. Sometimes Bucky forgot things, and some things he still didn’t remember completely. He exasperated Steve when he forgot to eat and worried him when he went out and didn’t check in for a while. Bucky had spent so much time being the protector. Looking out for Steve and finishing his fights or patching him up when he hadn’t quite made it in time. Steve was happy to return the favor and be the strong one for a while. Until Bucky was strong enough that they could equally lean on each other again. 

Maybe not everything was back to the way it had been yet, but when Bucky reached for his hand and squeezed it, Steve knew it would be. One day.


End file.
